


Tuesday Morning

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, SpaceTime, be warned, domestic abuse, it does not end in Spacetime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mondays are the worst, but Tuesdays are a close second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuesday Morning

It happened on a Tuesday.

The two of them had been bickering for days beforehand, snapping back and forth over every petty issue. He thought she was overthinking everything. She thought he was being a dick. Neither of them could agree, and neither wanted to admit that they were both wrong. She had hit him the night before, struck him square across the jaw, but he knew how much she hated it when he called her a bitch.

Three years had gone by, the first two equatable to paradise, the last one a swift and headlong fall to hell. The red eyes that had captivated and ensnared her seemed raw and ugly now; the bubbly nature he had appreciated and loved was more absentmindedness than anything else. They had never been physical in their anger (until that Monday night before) but each had scars from the other that they knew would never heal.

When the end came it was as obvious as the beginning had been. Everyone knew Jade Harley and Dave Strider were a match made in paradise; he, the beautiful blonde boy with depth and enigma, she the handsome dark girl with a spry step and love to share with all. Everyone knew they would fall apart in the end; he with his enigma and depth so closed off he could not appreciate her, she with all her energy and love gone wasted in the wrong ways.

She came home from work and he was simply gone. His things had been packed and all traces of them were neatly stacked in a cardboard box, left in the living room, unmarked. There was no note, no call, no notice. A photo on the kitchen counter was all he had left, of them at the fair a year and a half ago, kissing in the photo booth.

Later she found out that he’d moved in with a friend, decided to take some time, put some space between them. They didn’t speak for a week. And then a month. And then six. Finally she decided he would not speak to her again and, hardly willing to expend more love and more energy, she left him behind for good.

It happened on a Tuesday.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small drabble, I know it's extremely short. I felt like it was poignant enough to merit being posted here.


End file.
